She looks at the open door and the smoke. “What happened?”
“Uh, Mitch and I wanted to cook for you since you’re always cooking for us. A nice welcome home surprise.”
“It’s the thought that counts.” She gives him a smile. “Can we go in? The sunlight is giving me a headache.”
I don’t want to take her into the smoke, but I can’t keep her out here either, so I tell her to cover her nose and stride into the house. Which is empty.
Thank God.
“We found a pizza place that does gluten free crusts you and Collin should be able to eat.” Dylan is right on our heels. “I’ll order pizza.”
“Where’s everyone?” C asks as comes in carrying Daisy’s things.
“The girls went shopping for party supplies. They want to throw Daisy a party. A small one,” Mitchell hurries to add when I open my mouth. I’d already reamed them all out about the noise for at least tonight. She needs quiet.
“Did they know you two were going to try and cook?” Daisy looks around, her eyes zeroing in on the mess of bowls and ingredients spread out all over the kitchen island. It looks like a bomb went off.
“Uh, no.” Mitch smiles wryly. “They would have told us to wait for them.”
“I appreciate you guys trying to cook.”
“Why does it smell like…” Robbie trails off when he sees the mess in the kitchen as he comes in. “What the fuck happened in here?”
“We tried to cook.”
He eyes them. “Don’t try it again. Stick to your lanes.”
The two of them are athletes trained to respond to a commanding voice and Daisy’s brother has that. He’s in the military and used to giving orders.
“Yes, sir,” they both automatically say.
“I have to get back to base, but I wanted to make sure you got home, Sis.” He comes over and kisses my forehead. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Thanks for waiting with me at the hospital.”
He smiles. “You got it.”
Once her brother is gone, I decide to take her upstairs and let her rest. “Okay, let us know when the pizza is here, but she needs rest. I’ll see you guys later.”
Daisy laughs as I all but run to get her up to the attic. I may be in a hurry, but I’m extremely careful with her. I don’t want tojar her healing legs or her arms, or hell, any part of her. She’s so fragile and small in my arms.
I carefully put her down in her desk chair, run back down the stairs for her bedding and then lock the door behind me when I come back upstairs. It doesn’t take me long to make her bed.
“Can you get me some clean pajamas out of the chest?”
I look up to see her pointing at the small wooden chest of drawers. I nod and grab her pair of bottoms and a white t-shirt. It only takes me a minute to help her change. This is a routine we’ve gotten into over the last week or so.
Once I have her settled in bed, I can finally relax and let out the breath I’d been holding.
She’s home.
She’s safe.
She’s breathing.
Thank God.
Sighing in relief, I kick my shoes off and crawl into bed with her. She snuggles into my side, and I pull her close, thankful to simply hold her. I thought I’d lost her and yet here she is, alive and breathing. A true miracle.
